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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033506">Five Senses</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinmangerer/pseuds/erinmangerer'>erinmangerer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Outlander &amp; Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Book 5: The Fiery Cross, Episode Related, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:41:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>798</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinmangerer/pseuds/erinmangerer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A wee ficlet to allow me to climb inside Jamie's head for his reunion with Claire in 503.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>141</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Five Senses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Twenty years apart made him a master of conjuring her in his mind. Her curls, her smile, the pearl glow of her skin- he could draw them all. His mind’s eye could draw her deep in concentration or lost in passion. It was a blessing and a curse. He could bring her to mind at a moment’s notice, but her image never left him in peace.</p>
<p>It was only after she returned to him that he realized just how inadequate these mental paintings were. Nothing he had ever envisioned in that longest of winters could come close to the reality of being in her presence, when she filled his senses and he knew nothing in the world but her.</p>
<p>That was what pushed him, what drove him home over long miles of dusty roads with little sustenance and even less sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stepped quietly into the surgery, laying his pistol down on the table and moving to stand over the sleeping figure of his wife. He was depleted from being without her, the world around him dulled to a flat monotone. So, lifting a prayer of thanks to heaven that she’d been kept safe in his absence, he drank in the sight of her- the sweep of her curls over her shoulder, the graceful line of her neck that disappeared into the softly worn linen of her shift.</p>
<p>Then she awoke and turned to face him. One by one, his senses came roaring back to life.</p>
<p>Her breathless voice, full of wonder, speaking his name, and all her small sighs and exhales floated in his ears. He was certain no angelic choir would ever sound sweeter. “What are we thanking the Lord for?” <em>You. All of you.</em></p>
<p>The need to touch and be touched was assuaged by the delicate flutter of her hands on his face and the silken warmth of her skin as he caressed her arm. The feel of her made all his nerve endings spark and dance. The finest fabrics, the petals of flowers felt gritty and rough in comparison.</p>
<p>He breathed deep as she nuzzled into him, not at all surprised to catch the scent of her shampoo and soap (the woman <em>loved</em> to bathe). It always took him back to when he first knew her, when she always seemed surrounded by the scent of her wee herbs and plants, and the aroma was more alluring to him than any expensive perfume.</p>
<p>The faint glow of the fire made her skin almost translucent, and his vision was overwhelmed with all the individual things about her that made her more beautiful to him each day. All the shades and colors of her hair, including the gray she’d been so unsure of when she returned to him, had surely been painted by God Himself. The long lines of her form, so slender and yet so strong, filled him with unutterable tenderness and wild longing. He noticed the soft flush in her cheeks, the eyes that sparkled even when filled with sleep and tears, the wings of her collar bones, the delicate shell of her ears. He’d been fortunate to see much beauty in the world- the majesty of the Highlands, the splendors of Versailles, the vastness of the ocean, the untamed landscape of the Carolina wilderness around them. But if knew he was about to be struck blind for the rest of his days, he would want his last vision to be of her.</p>
<p>And oh, the taste of her lips when she pressed them to his. It was brief, tender, gentle as her mouth left his to trail over his face. It left him craving more. He could never become a drunkard- it wasn’t in his nature or his upbringing. The taste of her was his addiction, the welcoming softness of her mouth his drug.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Later, after they’d talked, shared the experiences of their time apart, sought each other’s counsel, his whole being would finally be fully awakened when they came together in the quiet dark. Their union was tender as they took the time to re-learn each other. He delighted his senses with her wee noises, the white velvet of her skin, the scent and taste of her secret places, the arch of her body as she took her pleasure. He spilled himself into her with a cry of ecstatic joy and then held her to his heart, his senses full, the world alive once more as they fell into sleep.</p>
<p>She’d told him he needed her help. His last thought as he drifted off was that didn’t just need her help for the tasks ahead. He needed her to be whole. After twenty years apart, it was a lesson he would never forget. “Deo gratias,” he whispered again and let sleep take him.  </p>
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